The Adventures of Werdna and Umad
by shipperfey
Summary: Just another night at the Summers’ household. Written in 2003, Revised April, 2008.


**Title: The Adventures of Werdna and Umad**  
**Author:** Alice J. Foster

**Summary: **Just another night at the Summers' household.  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s): **Spike/Buffy, Andrew/Dawn  
**Category: **humor, angst, romance  
**Spoilers: **Season 7.  
**Warnings: **sexual content  
**Rating:** R  
**A/N**: Started out as a silly Dawn/Andrew fic because I was bored and wanted something cute to distract me from the dark spots of season 7 (oh and to keep me away from spoilers)—the Spuffy just had to be included because the muse demanded it.

"So, this is what you guys have been doing for the past…?" Amanda let her question trail off as the others did the math.

"Past few weeks, I guess." Vi replied.

"Customarily Buffy just trains us. Sometimes Mr. Giles lectures us. The rest of the time we talk and watch the telly." Molly added, pointing to the television behind Amanda.

The girls were sitting on top of their sleeping bags. There were four spread out over the Summers' living room floor and Giles' bed/couch was made, but hadn't been slept on since he'd left for Shanghai.

Soon there would be five sleeping bags on the floor. Amanda had brought her own, telling her mother that her friend Dawn was throwing a slumber party. They were waiting for Giles to return before they talked to Amanda's family.

Rona looked around and huffed. "This is getting pretty crowded, huh?"

Amanda nodded with an awkward smile. "Where's Kennedy?"

The other girls looked uncomfortable. "She, uh… she doesn't sleep here with us." Vi finally offered.

"Miss Smarty-Pants gets sleeping privileges. She's up in that red haired chick's room… You know, Willow," Rona explained.

"Oh." Amanda replied. After a second, when everyone still looked uncomfortable, realization hit. "Ohhhh... That's cool."

"That's all we need. A Slayer screwing a vampire and one-in-training sleeping with a witch," Rona observed.

"Don't say that, Rona. Buffy loves Spike and she's off our case ever since she rescued him. As long as it keeps her in a good mood, I'm all for it. And Kennedy, she seems to really like Willow. I don't mind sleeping on the floor anyway. I like being around you guys." Vi replied.

Rona wouldn't have any of it. "Ultimately, we're not supposed to be best buds, we're supposed to compete for our calling-- only one of us is likely to come out of this alive."

"Maybe not… maybe the Powers just decided to make a lot of potentials to save them up for later… just in case. I mean, my Watcher told me that a Slayer did not live past her twentieth birthday, and Buffy is older than that. She's also still wicked strong and powerful."

Rona finally conceded. "I just sometimes wish things went back to the way they were before."

The girls around her nodded.

"We should probably shut some eye. Mr. Xander and Miss Anya are sleeping in the foyer and we should let them rest." Molly changed the subject quickly and effectively.

They dreamed of eyeless creatures, demon bars, smelly vampires and death.

"Honest, you don't have to do this, pet."

Spike said as Buffy bogusly tried to wrestle him out of his shirt inside her room.

"Spike, you're hurt. We can't have you growling in pain in the middle of a battle." Buffy rationalized.

"It's just a couple of ribs, luv. Nothing big. I can deal."

Buffy reached out and poked the bandage that wrapped his ribs.

"Ow!" Spike hollered in pain. "What's wrong with you?" He added in a whisper, not wanting Dawn to wake up next door-- supposing first that she was actually asleep, of course.

"You're in pain. I let you bandage yourself up yesterday, but now you have to let me see the damage and make sure you did it right."

"Of course I did it right!" Spike protested. "I've been taking care of my own ouchies for the past century, Slayer."

"And how many of those 'ouchies' were inflicted by the First Evil?"

_Touché._

Spike finally took off his shirt. The bed dipped next to him as Buffy sat herself on it and started unrolling the elastic bandage. The light was on and he chastised himself for being lured to Buffy's room by the lame excuse of discussing tactical training for the potentials.

Buffy gasped as she saw the bruises, but didn't say anything right away.

When she'd rescued him, most of the damage had not surfaced in bright color yet – there'd been just blood and cuts. Now there were spots of blue, yellow, purple and green as dead blood coagulated beneath the pale skin. The skin on his lower torso seemed untouched, but everything else, up to his shoulders, was in a bad shape.

There was some pain reliever gel on the nightstand and she doubted it would make much of a difference, but she still rubbed the gel on the smooth skin. Her touch was soothing and Spike felt himself relaxing – it was the most relaxed he'd been since he'd gotten the soul. Her hands made circular paths on his skin, rubbing the gel wherever she saw a cut or bruise. The touch was feather-light where she knew it was painful and strong where she thought he was just sore from the strain he'd been under.

Other parts of him were getting far from relaxed under her touch and his hand caught Buffy's in an unsuccessful attempt to calm the undead blood flow that was flowing south. Buffy looked down at their connected hands and gulped down audibly.

"What's wr--?" Buffy started asking before realizing what'd happened. "Oh."

"I think you ought to wrap me up again and I'll be on my merry way to the basement, luv."

Buffy silently nodded and didn't meet his eyes again. She wrapped some fresh bandages around him and kept it in place with some metal clips that reminded her of butterflies. Her touch was now as clinical as she could make it be, and he regretted the awkwardness.

"Done," she announced as she handed him his shirt.

"All rightie then." Spike accepted the shirt and started putting it on again, very slowly.

Buffy opened her mouth several times but nothing came out of it. The vampire got up from the bed and her hand shot up to touch his arm. "Uh…" She started and kicked herself mentally. The moment just got more awkward by the second, and Buffy finally threw caution at the wind and voiced her thoughts. "Listen, you don't have to sleep in the basement. I'm sure that the old mat is far than comfy and you're hurt."

Something crossed Spike's eyes for a second, but he simply replied, "You like _comfy_?" he teased blindly.

Buffy groaned in remembrance of her slip in front of the potentials in the dark crypt. "I'm just saying…"

"I know you are, luv. But as you said, I've been hurt and I'm not up to anymore bruising."

"There doesn't need to be bruising," Buffy countered.

Spike thought he'd burn because of her proximity, the heat of her own skin reaching out to his in desire.

Buffy, in turn, seemed to think she wasn't close enough, that she would never be close enough to him again.

"There's always bruising, luv. Sometimes, you just can't see it."

When had the conversation changed from First Evil bruising to her own? "I said it doesn't always have to be like that." Buffy insisted in her own defense.

To prove her point, she reached up and touched his face, the cheekbone seeming to reach out for her fingers. Despite his objections, Spike gave in to the touch, cocking his head to further the touch.

Buffy moved like lightning and her mouth was on his; the entire world seemed to spin around them. It had been too long, too long without his mouth on hers and his body pressed against hers. Although she'd been the one to start the kiss, Spike was the one who started exploring her mouth with his expert tongue.

Sounds were coming out of their mouths, not loud enough to be overheard, but definitely shaking up some air molecules. The hot but sweet kiss threw both of them off; it was nothing like they'd experienced last year, and suddenly kissing wasn't enough.

Buffy's hand moved under Spike's shirt to caress his hipbone while his fingers stroked her collarbone. Butterflies invaded Buffy's stomach when her tongue tasted the skin of Spike's jaw. The taste wasn't very different from the ones catalogued in her brain, but it still assaulted her in the most pleasant way, making her as wet as the Nile.

Spike's mouth wasn't still either, searching out the rich skin of her neck. His blunt teeth scrapped the flesh delicately, extracting a loud moan from her. The sound seemed to break the spell and they jumped apart as if their skins burned from the contact.

There was some heavy breathing going on in the room and Buffy briefly noticed she wasn't the only one having trouble breathing – it was almost endearing the way Spike would gasp, breathe and lightly snore around her, even if he didn't need to.

"I should…Basement." Spike started off awkwardly but didn't move.

"Don't." Buffy protested. "Just stay here…" Biting her lip, she softly added, "Please."

The lip biting or the please did Spike in, but Buffy didn't know which. It suddenly didn't matter because they were on her bed and his body was a next to her, and she never wanted to get up ever again – no First Evil, no till-death battles, just long nights spent with Spike in bed.

They took their time undressing, something they'd never done. Carefully moving them so she'd be on top and Spike wouldn't strain himself any further, Buffy looked down at him; so many scars all over his beautiful chest. Buffy ran her hands over the closed cuts, her fingertips just lightly grazing the tortured skin.

"We'll win, you know that, right?" She whispered to him sweetly.

Spike nodded. "A few of us will get licked along the way, but in the end, good always wins. Or at least you've made me believe so."

Only in her twisted version of a life she'd be discussing an apocalypse while Spike's erection pressed against her thigh - surreal, yet reassuring. Her hands moved away from his chest and her fingers encircled the hard silky flesh, familiarizing itself with it again. The memory of it was still fresh in her mind, buried under multiple layers of denial, but it paled in comparison to the real thing.

Spike gasped and moaned as quietly as he could while her hand caressed his member; in turn, he reached out to touch her round breasts. Touch was not enough and his hands moved to her waist, pulling her down as he assaulted the skin with teeth, lips and tongue. He sucked, bit and kissed the skin, encouraged by Buffy's soft moans.

The tune was primal and feral, but they danced slowly.

The bed creaked softly underneath them.

After what it felt like forever, Spike felt his erection touch Buffy's damp center. He tilted his hips slightly to get more contact, and she caught the movement. Buffy raised her torso some more before plunging down and impaling herself on him.

They hoped against hope that all occupants of the Summers House were sound asleep; otherwise they were bound to have heard their collective moans.

When he was as far inside her as he could go, Buffy bent down and kissed his lips gently. They both shivered with the ecstatic between them and Buffy started to move, in an attempt to make the wave of feelings and sensations stop overcoming her.

They had this part of the script down better than anyone, their bodies moving in perfect synchrony against each other. Sweat drops pooled quickly against her breast, and not finding any resistance, ran down her stomach and navel and onto him.

Spike felt her muscles quivering around him; his eyes made a journey to the back of his head… they came back quickly to look deeply into her own. He couldn't exactly read them, but he realized there were no masks – no barriers. They were open for him to learn them; she finally wanted him to.

His hands reached out and touched her lips. She returned the gesture by kissing his fingertips one by one. Her thigh muscles were protesting her movements but she couldn't stop. Spike seemed to notice it, and put his hands on her hip to guide her up and down. There was a slight difference in angle and Buffy gasped as he touched her even deeper. She was hotter than hell around him but the fire only led him closer to the edge.

He should be ashes, but she wouldn't let him.

With every thrust, Buffy just remembered it'd been too long; she never wanted to spend any time without this - without him - again. That thought calmed and troubled her, but in the end it only made her want him all the more.

The movement of their bodies grew more erratic by the moment as they approached their release. The need was stronger than them and they willingly gave in to it.

The world crashed in their ears and eyes and they only saw the explosions reflected in their minds. Slayers muscles worked extra-hard and Spike would've feared for his most dear appendage if said member wasn't currently emptying his undead seed inside her.

Buffy fell on Spike when the first wave of spasms stopped and the vampire groaned as she crashed into his ribs. She planned to apologize when she recovered, possibly in the next century. For now all she had the strength to do was to move on her side so she was only half on top of Spike, most of her weight falling on the mattress.

Once her breathing pattern was under control, she looked up to him and found him looking at her questioningly.

"What?" Her voice sounded coarse to her own ears, and she suddenly feared she'd overused her vocal chords and woken up the entire house.

"Nothing," Spike replied unconvincingly.

"You don't have a nothing face," She challenged.

Buffy wanted to erase his doubtful stare from his eyes and forget her own questions of uncertainty, so she did the only thing she could think of: she kissed him.

Spike returned the kiss but didn't deepen it. His hand came up to touch her hair and he traced circular patterns on her face.

Buffy moved her head so she could lie against him without touching any bruised spots. She couldn't look into his eyes, but it still felt so right that she had to do it.

Spike's arm that was under her body protested her weight and he moved it and encircled her waist with it, pulling her a little closer. Her hair brushed his face in greeting and he took in its fruity smell, with the underlying fragrance that was pure and utter Buffy.

"If this is the way things could be for the rest of my life, I could die happy," Buffy muttered against his skin.

"It doesn't have to change." Spike replied with optimism while trying to keep himself from reading too much into her words.

"We're getting ready for the everlasting battle between good and evil, Spike. Things are gonna change." She sighed softly. "Things are still hard, but it seems like things are right... I'm training the future slayers, Willow is okay and helping once again, Giles is not AWOL anymore… I've learned to wait for the other shoe to drop, but this time the shoe could really kick my butt into oblivion."

"That's tomorrow, ducks. We're here with you now, the entire lot of us, and no one is leaving. The Big Bad is sleeping, and we should probably do the same so we'll be strong tomorrow to face it."

Despite herself, Buffy chuckled. "When did you become better than me at motivational talks?"

Spike grinned and answered, "I've always been better, luv. The Scoobies are just too whipped by you…" He said and let his words trail off.

Sighing, Buffy traced the invisible hairs on his navel. "You know I trust you, right, Spike?"

He was taken aback for a second and she must have felt it, because she added, "Because if _it_ tries to mess with your head again, I want you to remember tonight and remember this – I trust you. I need you. Don't ever doubt that."

He couldn't find an appropriate reply to that, so he kept his mouth shut. After a few minutes he realized she'd fallen asleep. The cadence of her breathing led him to do the same.

The first thing Andrew heard when he woke up was, "God, what does it take for you to wake up?"

It took him a few seconds to focus, but he finally made out Dawn's form standing a few feet from him, hands on her hips.

"Wha--?" He asked, too sleepy to understand what was going on.

He sat up on the sleeping bag and scrubbed his eyes groggily.

"I'm bored." Dawn announced.

"Oh." He replied before frowning and adding, "So?"

"You're the only one not doing anything."

"Excuse me? _Sleeping_ here."

"It's 10:30 on a Friday night."

"Sooo?" Andrew argued.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "God, you're a nerd."

"Soooo?" He repeated.

Dawn decided not to pursue that trail of dialogue and declared what was bothering her. "I want to go out. I don't think I can stand this house another second."

Andrew just stared at her, confused.

Dawn cocked her head in frustration. "Are you coming?"

"Wha—? Me? Go—go out now? With you? But th—there's a—and the—your sister would kill me if I left the house. Weren't you just attacked by those hooded guys?"

"What does it matter?" Dawn argued. "Oh, I get it. You're afraid of Buffy. Chicken." She teased.

"She's the _Slayer_." Andrew whined.

"So? She's a girl. Andrew is afraid of girls!" She announced, even though she knew no one really cared. No one but him, that is.

He shushed her. "Fine! I'll go."

Dawn grinned evilly – not First Evil evilly, just manipulative-teenager evilly.

"Where are we going?" Andrew asked as they started walking on the sidewalk by the house.

Dawn excitedly suggested, "We should go someplace scary. Like the caves around town."

Andrew tried to show some bravado. "Yeah, someplace scary." Nervously, he suggested, "We could go to the High School basement."

Dawn huffed his suggestion. "Please, I have to go to Hellmouthy High every day. I just got attacked there. I need to at least vary my route. What about the cemetery?"

Andrew shrugged, but said patronizingly. . "No, that's overrated. Too Stephen King."

"Oh, and what do you suggest, Mr. I-can't-suggest-a-good-place?"

"Does it have to be scary?" Andrew whined. "We could go to the arcade on Main."

"I don't think so, SuperGeek."

He stared at her agape. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Will you stop being a geek?"

Andrew looked away and Dawn did too, each of them rolling their eyes.

"Bitch."

"Butthole."

"I hate you!" Dawn barked.

"I hate you too!" Andrew barked back.

Dawn added hastily, "Do you want to go to the coffee shop?"

"Do they have those fruity frozen coffees?" Andrew asked excitedly.

Dawn gave him a pointed look.

"What?!" He defended himself – or tried to.

The coffee place was empty. Apparently, people were starting to realize that something evil was a' brewing and were deciding to stay in after sunset. Or maybe it was because everyone was at The Bronze.

"I'm so sick of that house." Dawn commented out-of-the-blue as they sipped on their frappuccino mochas.

"Hey, at least you have your own bedroom. I'm sleeping in the dining room – I've only been fully untied for the past 76 hours."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have tried to bring on the end of the world last year."

"Do you have to keep bringing that up?" Andrew whined.

Dawn scoffed. "Anyway, who made this about you?"

"You're the one who wanted me to come along." Andrew pointed out.

"That's because all the candidates to the Chosen One position are having a private slumber party, Willow is locked in her room with Kennedy being magicky and Buffy and Spike were either having hushed deep conversations or screwing each other blindly – I can't tell with them anymore."

"Are you bitter because you're not a potential Slayer?"

"No!" Dawn said too quickly. "It's just that I'm tired of being compared to Buffy. The only good thing I could think about being the next Slayer was that I would be able to finally be as good as her."

"I think you would be a good Slayer." Andrew offered.

Her own bad mood notwithstanding, Dawn actually smiled. "Thank you. You didn't have to say that."

"Seriously. I mean, at least you'd be a tall Slayer. Plus, you're cool. Buffy's cool too, so I guess that's important."

Dawn nodded as she sipped more of her frappuccino. "Like Buffy, I can also kick your butt with both hands tied behind my back."

"Can not!" Andrew protested. "I'd like to see you try." He teased.

"Puh-lease. My sister taught me not to pick on people weaker than me." She replied with a grin.

"Good, that eliminates, like, two people on earth."

Dawn just chuckled at that, feeling un-crappy for the first time in weeks.

"How can you not remember the part where Trinity tells Neo he's her destiny?" Andrew questioned as they walked past the park on Main Street and turned into Revello Drive.

"Because… I watched the movie for the special effects, you know?"

"But their relationship is crucial to the plot. You don't know anything about that."

Dawn gasped. "Right. That coming from the guy whose idea of a pick up line is quoting James Bond."

"He's an international spy. He's smooth and he's cool, okay?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "He's hitting on women named after body parts."

"And what do you know about picking someone up? I don't see the boys lining up outside the house for you either," Andrew retorted.

Dawn stopped walking and just gaped at him. "How dare you? I hate you!"

Andrew barked back, "I hate you too!"

"Fine!" Dawn shouted into the night.

They resumed their walking.

"I'll have you know that I could be dating, okay? It's just that having the Slayer as my sister is not very easy on one's social life."

Andrew scoffed her attempt at an excuse.

"It's true. After Buffy caught me kissing a vampire in a car on Halloween, all my dates need to pass the Buffy test."

Andrew seemed almost disgusted. "You were kissing a vampire?"

"I didn't know it was a vampire!" Dawn argued.

"Pale skin, looms at night, pointy teeth – how much more clues do you need?"

"Where do you get off judging me?" She stopped walking and pulled on Andrew's arm to still him as well. "And when was the last time you had a date?"

"Well, there was this… girl once that--and… she was hot!" He finished lamely.

Dawn crossed her arms menacingly in front of her and quipped, "I meant a date that you didn't make up or meet online."

Andrew just looked away.

"Come on, you've kissed someone right?" Dawn pushed.

"Well, there was this time with Jona—uh, no…" Andrew said and hoped Dawn would ignore his little slip.

"That's almost sad."

"I don't need your pity." Andrew replied hurt.

"Well, maybe I could show you…" Dawn offered, staring at the floor.

Andrew's eyes almost burnt holes on her face. "What do you mean?" he asked, untrusting.

"I could… you know… teach you how to--erh. Maybe we could kiss. Since you don't know what it's like and all."

Andrew was torn between keeping his pride and giving in.

Who was he kidding? It was a decided battle from the beginning. "Okay," he replied with a shrug.

Dawn moved closer to him and tried to ignore the way her pulse seemed to be beating stronger all over her body. She could do this, she kept repeating to herself.

Wait.. why was she doing this? She didn't even like Andrew. He was annoying, he teased her mercilessly and he tried to kill Buffy with his nerdy friends.

She was just teaching him, her mind offered.

Her eyes closed on their own, and time seemed to pass in slow motion until her lips finally touched his. Andrew didn't know what to do, and after a while he decided to close his eyes as well.

The kiss was different from Dawn's previous ones in the parked car. Andrew's mouth was hot on hers, unlike the cold mouth that had kissed hers before. It was burning and she liked it. She dipped her head to the side a little bit more and changed the contact.

Definitely getting better.

Andrew found the whole thing extremely exquisite. It was surreal that the Slayer's sister was kissing him. Not just the Slayer's sister – Dawn, he remembered.

He whimpered when he felt Dawn's tongue touching his lips. Opening his own mouth, he met her tongue with his, experiencing something completely new and even better.

She tasted like mocha and bubble gum, and he tasted like cream and chips. They spent minutes learning each other's mouths, grateful that the street around them seemed to be deserted just like the rest of the town.

When Dawn broke the kiss, she thought she would pass out from the lack of air. Her fingers flew to her lips as she stared at Andrew, first in horror then in realization as she remembered who she'd kissed.

Andrew just ran his tongue over his lips awkwardly. He put his hands in his pockets and looked around them, while making notes that the aftermath was definitely not as good as the act itself.

Dawn recomposed quickly and crossed her arms in front of her again. She started to walk to her house and he accompanied her in silence.

It took them 15 minutes to get home and they slipped quietly through the kitchen door. There was some loud snoring coming from the foyer and they were unsure if its source was Xander or Anya. When they reached the room, they found out it was both.

The carpenter was snoring to the left of the living room door and the ex-demon was snoring to the right, in perfect cadence.

Andrew walked with Dawn until the stairwell, careful not to wake up the former couple. The floorboards made little noise and he stopped walking in fear of waking the couple. Dawn stepped on the first floor and looked back at him.

"Uh… Thank you." She said awkwardly but honestly.

Andrew flexed his fingers inside his pockets. "You're welcome."

"Good night." Dawn whispered.

"Night."

The floor complained as Dawn quickly jumped off the first step.

Andrew's mouth didn't feel so differently against hers this time; it actually felt comforting and nice. The kiss lasted only seconds and she pulled away quickly and strode up the stairs, not caring if she woke up anyone.

Andrew just sighed and turned to go back to his sleeping bag.

It was going to be a long night.

**the end**

_last revision: __04/26/2008_


End file.
